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29 March 2007 @ 07:06 pm
HL50 - Strangers  
This is my story for the 'Strangers' prompt
The events take place just before “Prodigal Son”. 
Disclaimer: I did not create the Highlander universe, nor do I own any part of it, unfortunately. I'm just having a party in their flat, but I promise to clean up after myself.
Six Degrees
Richie lay on the motel bed, but sleep wouldn’t come for him. It was 3am and he hadn’t done more than doze in over a week, but still he didn’t dare close his eyes. Better that he come off his bike than be caught off-guard again. The nameless terror that had been chasing him half-way across the continent had struck again a few nights ago, killing the staff at a little guest house he had stopped at.
He had no idea how the guy kept finding him, or why he wouldn’t challenge him directly. One thought pounded in Richie’s brain, “I have to reach Mac. He’ll know what to do.”
Then he felt it, the feeling that he had recently become terrified of, the presence of another Immortal. He leapt from his bed, sword already in hand, and cautiously looked out into the corridor. Seeing nothing, he crept out and along toward the entrance hall. The hall was empty, not even a receptionist on the desk. With a sinking certainty in his gut, Richie called out, “Why don’t you face me?” A man stepped out from the shadows.
“I have no quarrel with you boy.”
“Then why have you been following me around and murdering innocent mortals?”
“I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I would never resort to such underhand tactics. I find the very insinuation insulting, almost insult enough to challenge you.” Wearily, Richie raised his sword,
“If you insist.” The stranger smiled and shook his head.
“I only said almost. You look like you can barely raise that sword at the moment. When was the last time you slept properly?” Richie lowered his sword and shook his head,
“I’m honestly not sure any more. I’m heading for Paris, I’ve been riding since Madrid.”
“Madrid? On a bike? Even for one of us that’s a tall order on no sleep. I have a little place just outside Paris, my wife and I would be happy to give you a safe harbour for a night. She is Immortal too and we can give the staff the night off, you’ll be quite safe.” Richie sagged visibly with relief, but he was so paranoid from recent experience that he wasn’t sure whether to trust this man or not.
“I don’t know, I really need to get to Mac as soon as possible.”
“Mac? Do you mean Duncan MacLeod?” Richie nodded, “Well then, my dear boy, I insist that you stay with us! Duncan is one of our dearest friends. Where are my manners? I am le Comte de Valicourt.” He said, giving a short bow and offering his hand. Richie smiled, and hesitantly took the offered hand. This may be a trap, he thought, but it might not be.
“Richard Ryan.”
“A pleasure to meet you, any friend of Duncan’s… Now, lets go collect the rest of your things shall we?” As they headed back down the corridor to Richie’s room, he said to Valicourt,
“This is really generous of you. Thank you.”
“My dear boy, sometimes all we have to rely on is the kindness of strangers.”
Carol Bartholomew: Kitten on blockcarolhelga on March 29th, 2007 07:26 pm (UTC)
Ah, the life of an Immortal...do I trust someone I don't know, or do I run like hell the other way... ;-)